


Brighter Times

by MariaJonsson



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2779640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaJonsson/pseuds/MariaJonsson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During Catelyn’s first winter, she and Ned try and feel their way forward, not without a few bumps in the road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brighter Times

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Written for CatxNed Week on Tumblr. The prompt was the Old Gods. Hope you enjoy.  
>  **Disclaimer:** I own nothing all characters belong to George R. R. Martin. This is just for fun.

The days were becoming shorter, if that was possible, and now daylight only lingered for about two or three hours.

If Catelyn was honest with herself the lack of sunlight affected her far more than the cold, the heat in the stones of Winterfell helped with the coldness, but candlelight could not replace the sun.

She had begun to understand far more why these Northerners were so serious. The dark made people more quiet, and surprisingly more trusting.

Catelyn had put on her thickest gloves and pulled her hood tight around her before venturing outside. Robb would not need her attention for a few hours as he was with Old Nan. So she decided to take the opportunity to pray in the Sept Ned had built in her honour. After all, she did not want to seem ungrateful. He had surprised her. No sept had ever been built within the walls of Winterfell, but now a small seven walled building sat in the middle of the yard, a testimony to the Southern lady that resided here.

Catelyn was grateful to him, and yet she worried what his, no their, people might say. Ned had tried to reassure her, claiming no one would mind, and so far there had been no spoken objection, even a few of the servants had been curious and ventured inside the building, most never having travelled far from Winterfell and therefore never seen a Sept before.

The cold that hit her face when she walked outside the door of the Great Keep took her breath away. Each breath hurt her lungs. The cold air burned her nostrils and throat. She had not taken many steps when she noticed that many lanterns had been put up, and people were still working on putting even more up all over the yard.

Catelyn was about to ask one of the men what was going on when she saw her husband standing in the middle of it all, his back turned to her, something heavy in his arms.

She walked towards him, calling out to him when there were but a few steps between them.

Instead of being greeted by her Lord Husband she was greeted by her almost three-year-old son’s cry of joy.

"Mama!" He exclaimed, and Catelyn couldn’t help the smile that graced her face. Soon she would no longer hear that word from him, but the more formal "mother" and despite herself she dreaded it.

"Sweetling," she answered, reaching a gloved hand out to pull his hood better around his face. Giving his father a cold stare.

"My lady, I did not think to see you outside today," Ned spoke, pulling Robb’s little hands away when the little boy tried to pull the hood away.

"Papa, Hot!" Robb squirmed, kicking his legs to be let down. "Down, pweas."

Ned complied with the wiggling child, placing him down on his feet in the snow. Pulling his the back of his cloak when Robb tried to run away.

"No running," Ned said.

Robb frowned, but then promptly fell on his rump pulling as much snow towards him as his small arms could muster.

"Why is he not with Old Nan?" Catelyn asked, trying hard to keep anger from her voice.

"Jon has a cold, so I thought I might take Robb for a while so that Jon might rest," Ned explained, moving his eyes away from her as he spoke his bastard’s name.

Catelyn clenched her fists in her gloves. Of course he would spend time with their trueborn son only because his precious bastard was ill.

"He is only three he should not be out in the cold," Catelyn said, instead of all the angry words she wished to say.

Ned only chuckled at that, looking down on their son who seemed content enough, even to Catelyn’s eyes, having almost buried himself in snow.

"He is of the North," was Ned’s only explanation, a look of pride on his face that dissuaded her a bit.

As if feeling his parent’s eyes on him Robb looked up with a grin, pointing proudly at the mountain of snow he had gathered.

"Good job son," Ned said, making Robb smile even wider, and Catelyn’s heart thawed further.

"What is going on here?" She finally asked, having remembered why she sought him out in the first place.

"We are preparing for the festival," Ned answered grim faced, as if he were speaking of a funeral and not a celebration.

"What festival?" Catelyn asked, bewildered.

"The Festival of Lights," Ned answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She must have still had a confused look on her face for he looked sheepish and looked down on their son as if the child would understand.

"I’m sorry, my lady. I must have forgotten to tell you," he said, unable to meet her eyes.

"What do you mean, my lord? If there were to be a festival I would know, Poole would have come to me, and Gage," she stated.

Ned looked even more abashed and whispered in a quiet voice, “I did not wish for them to bother you. I told them to speak with me.”

Catelyn could feel her cheeks flush, not in embarrassment, but rage. “Why would you do such a thing?” she asked bitterly, trying to hold her temper, after all it was his right to do as he pleased.

"I…" he hesitated and she took the opportunity to look down on their son who was still trying to bury himself in snow. "I did not… I thought you might like to relax."

His eyes mirrored a look she had only once seen before and she realized what was troubling him.

"It has been almost a moon, Ned," she reminded him, grabbing his own gloved hand in hers giving it a tight squeeze. "I am well, even the maester agrees."

In truth the pain had not been so bad, only slightly worse than when she bled and nowhere near as bad as the pain she had felt when she birthed Robb. In fact, it seemed to have troubled Ned far more than her.

A moon ago Catelyn had been awakened by a pain in her belly, and the terrified cries of her lord husband. She had been lying in a bed of blood, her sheets covered with blood that poured from her body. The cramps had taken her breath away and Ned’s panic had intensified her own. Later, after the maester had examined her, he had informed them that she had been with child, but her body had rejected the babe and so she had bled it away.

Catelyn had wanted to cry and yet no tears had come. She had not even known she was pregnant, hence Ned’s presence in her chambers. However, she had felt robbed, she had been hoping and praying for another child, a babe that Robb could play with, that she could cuddle, that would prove she was still fertile, and the Gods had taken it away in one night.

Old Nan had tried to comfort her, explaining that sometimes a woman’s body would throw out a new begotten babe if the babe was damaged. It was not uncommon and in no way a failure on her part, yet the old woman’s words sounded hollow to Catelyn’s ears, and she wondered if that was what her sister had been told. After all Lysa had suffered two miscarriages in the three years she had been married to Lord Arryn. Catelyn did not need their pity.

Catelyn was well now, even well enough for Ned to return to her bed and yet she still slept alone. The look in his eyes when he had held her as she cried out in panic still haunted her. It was as if he had been in a dream, he spoke not a word and yet when the Maester asked him to leave, he had refused, growling at the older man like the wolf on his banner.

"I know, but I would be more comfortable if you rested," he answered, scooping their son up from his little snow fort.

"No papa! Down!" Robb demanded, frowning at his father, making Catelyn smile despite herself.

"No," Ned said in a somber voice and Robb stopped struggling. "It is time to go inside."

"No inside. Play!" Robb insisted. "Mama help!"

Robb extended his arms out to her and she saw Ned’s lips twitch, threatening a smile.

"It is time to go inside, sweetling," Catelyn said, taking the boy from Ned.

Robb did not resist this time, coming willingly into her arms, laying his head on her shoulder, and by the sudden increased weight, he had promptly fallen asleep. Probably exhausted from his struggles with the snow.

"I should take him inside," Catelyn said.

"I’ll come with you," Ned answered.

"I know the way," she said harshly.

"I know, my lady. But I do owe you an explanation for all this," he said, waving towards the decorations still being put up.

Catelyn did not argue further, just walked away, taking Robb to lie down in his bed in the nursery.

The bastard was nowhere to be found and she was grateful for that. Ned owed her an explanation and she did not want him to lose focus.

After Robb was settled, she pressed a kiss to his warm forehead, then Ned stroked over the fiery hair on top of Robb’s head before following Catelyn out of the room.

"We could go to my chambers," Catelyn suggested. "They are closer than your solar."

Ned did not reply, but led her by the arm to her chambers, stopping before the door waiting for her to open and invite him in.

After they were inside, and Catelyn had taken off her gloves and cloak, she sat down before the fireplace, placing her hands down on her lap, waiting.

Ned shrugged off his cloak, hanging it next to hers, his thick leather gloves placed on the bed.

"I’m sorry, my lady," he started, staring down at her with his solemn face, his previous smiles gone from his face.

Catelyn did not reply, but waited, generally she would have said something, however, now was not the time for inquiries.

"I did not want to keep you in the dark, my lady," he continued, taking a seat close to her without getting nearer to the open flame. "I only wanted to…"

His voice faded out and he did not continue, instead he stared into the flames with a wounded look, looking more vulnerable than she had ever seen him.

"You wanted to protect me," she finished for him.

His grey eyes looked up at her and suddenly he seemed to be the twenty-four year old, he truly was and she was reminded how young they still were. There was still time.

"Yes," he whispered then. "Nevertheless, I should not have kept you in the dark. I had forgotten this was your first winter here."

Catelyn laughed at that, she certainly never forgot, especially when she woke in the mornings before him to find her windows open and the furs kicked to the bottom of the bed. Her body nearly frozen and his as warm as if he had been bathing in the sun.

"So tell me now," she pushed. What was done, was done, they could do nothing other than move on.

"As you know winters here are harsh and can last years, to lift the spirits of the people, my ancestors started the Festival of Lights," Ned explained.

"In honour of your Gods?" she asked.

There were not many days of celebration in the South that did not revolve around the Seven, but the Northerners did not seem to celebrate their Gods in the same way.

"In a way," Ned answered. "People pray to the Gods that winter will end, but in truth, it does not honour them in any specific way."    

"Then what is it for?" Catelyn asked.

"To brighten people’s spirits, to bring light to the dark," he said in a grim voice. "To say goodbye to the old and greet newer times."

It didn’t sound to bad, but she only had one day to get ready.

"So what do you need me to do?" she asked.

"Nothing, my lady. It has all been taken care off, you only need to rest," he answered, a look of determination in his eyes.

"I am not an invalid Ned! I’m fine! I want to help," she spoke in a harsher voice than she had in a long time, but the last word came out more like a plea than a command.

Catelyn could see he was taken back, it had been a long time since she last spoke to him with anything less than complete respect and she doubted anyone else had either.

"Very well," he relented, pushing a hand through his dark hair, standing up and offering her his hand to stand up as well. Before they left her chambers, she heard him speak in a silent voice something about the pointlessness of arguing with a Tully.

————————————————————————————————

The last two days had been hectic, but beautiful. The lights that were lit all over the castle brought life to the castle.

There had been a feast the night before, not the grand feasts of her youth, but no less entertaining.

There were no Lords in Winterfell safe Ned, for the long distances and bad weather kept the Great Northern Lords in their keeps. Instead the Great Hall was filled with people of all births and stature.

It was a strange sight, but Ned had kept Ser Rodrik close, offering him the seat to his left, drinking and joking with his men more than she had seen him do before.

The drinking made him less reserved, and she had nearly spilled her wine all over her grey gown when his hand came to rest on her thigh.

Catelyn nearly spilled her drink again when he leaned over and whispered in her ear that they should maybe retire for the evening, for he was impatient to have her naked.

This time her face became as red as her hair and she quickly looked away from him and over the people, who had long ago lost interest in what their lord was doing with his lady wife.

Catelyn had not answered when he pulled her with him, leaving the hall without so much as a farewell to their guests.

When they had reached her chambers he had not even bothered to remove their clothing before taking her, the first time since that terrible night. Instead, he had pushed her up against the wall and pulled her skirts around her waist, quickly ridding her off her small clothes and taking his pleasure.

Catelyn had never before seen him act like this, he was always respectful and caring when he bedded her, and quiet. There was nothing quiet about that night. His groans and growls, filled the room along with her moans, and it wasn’t until this morning she had had a thought to be concerned about being heard.

After the first encounter he had taken more care, removing every piece of clothing they both had on before pleasuring her with his mouth, then taking her again, this time even fiercer, leaving bruises and bites on her pale skin.

Catelyn had woken before him that morning, quickly dressing herself before he awoke, so he would not see the marks on her body and feel sorry for them.

Now they stood outside the walls of Winterfell, a large mountain of wood in front of them. Robb was secure in his father’s arms, although the little boy tried to reach out to the flames that had been ignited in the wood.

The bastard stood to Ned’s left along with Jory and Old Nan, and Catlyn couldn’t have been more grateful, he might never be completely out of sight, but Ned at least respected her enough not to have him stand with them.

Catelyn watched the fire, how it glowed and the light reflected off the faces of the people gathered. Happy, solemn, praying. Since there were no leaders in the Old Faith, there was no ceremony, Ned had spoken the night before, of winters and wolves, but no prayers had been spoken.

When the people started moving closer to fire throwing pieces of parchment or small objects, she moved closer to Ned, looking up at him to see if he was praying, only to find his grey eyes staring into hers.

"What are they doing?" she asked in a whisper, reaching up to stroke Robb’s soft cheek that was not pressed against Ned’s front.

"They are saying goodbye to the old, the fire represents a new beginning, the burning of the old. Some write down wishes or regrets and throw them into the fire, others, often those that can not write, throw objects into the fire instead." Ned explained. "The smallfolk always go first, but once they are all finished, the household goes and then us."

Only in the North would the Lord and his family wait for their entire people to go first before having their turn.

Catelyn said nothing in return, only waited and watched. Together the young and the old, both women and men, fed the fire with their desires and Catelyn wondered what they wished for, what were their regrets?

What did Catelyn herself regret? What did she desire? She knew what she desired, something the Gods had taken from her womb before she knew grew there. She looked up at her husband and wondered whether he regretted something, perhaps his lost lover, the mother of his bastard, or perhaps he wished for something. She did not know her husband to be a sentimental man, but he would honour this tradition, that much she knew.

It took shorter time than she had anticipated, and before she knew it their turn had come. Ned walked up to flame, pulling her along with him.

He handed Robb what looked like a small wooden block, which the three year old had no qualms about throwing into the fire almost before his father had let go.

Ned then got a piece of paper from his pocket and threw it the same way as Robb’s block.

Catelyn had nothing to throw, had brought no paper, nor wood. She was about to look for something when Ned pressed another block of wood into her palm.

She gripped the block hard in her hand, the ends digging into her palm.

Catelyn Tully might have had room for regrets, or childish dreams. Catelyn Stark, however, had no room for such things. She could only look ahead, to the future, so when she slipped the wooden piece into the flames, she sent with it her prayers for a happy future and a swollen stomach.

The End


End file.
